


Home Cooking

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Established Relationship, Food Porn, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lesson in cooking pasta turns into something else unexpected for Will and Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the age play verse that I have contributed to, but many others write for too - if you would like context, check out my fics or bookmarks. 
> 
> Disclaimer, as always - these are all consenting adults, some playing at younger than their biological ages. No real children are involved. Don't like, don't read (but it's so fun and fluffy, give it a go!).
> 
> Many thanks to my friend who inspired this fic - you know who you are <3
> 
> Prompts/ideas always welcome - hit me up in the comments or find me on tumblr: puppyxtraining :)

Hannibal rolled off Will, sweating and panting. He pushed a hand back through his grey-blonde hair while Will shifted to his side, watching Hannibal. 

“You enjoy that?”

Hannibal laughed, his teeth showing.

“Was it obvious?”

Will placed a hand on Hannibal’s chest, his fingertips ghosting over a nipple. 

“Let’s just say I’m glad at times like these my closest neighbours are 2 miles away.”

“And your dogs?”

Will lent up on his elbow and craned his head to peer out the window. 

“They’re fine. Those treat ball things will keep them busy for hours.”

“They are worth their weight in gold then.”

The late-morning sun streamed through the thin curtains and onto Will’s bed. They had driven back to Wolf Trap the night before, Hannibal barely able to contain himself before leaping on Will the second they got in the front door, fuelled by a late dinner and plenty of wine in the city. 

They had sex again early that morning, then fallen back asleep on realizing with that tremendous joy that it was Saturday, then woken some time past 11 for another round. 

Will ran his cheek across Hannibal’s shoulder and pressed his nose to just above his armpit, breathing in his scent. A low rumble and Will laughed, looking down towards Hannibal’s stomach. 

“You hungry?”

“For you or for food?”

Hannibal craned his head and kissed Will long and deep. They were broken apart by another rumble, Will laughing again.

“Man cannot live on man alone. I’ll make us some lunch.”

Will practically jumped off the bed, energized, put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and headed to the bathroom. 

Hannibal, though not one to lounge about in bed, felt a certain urge to when he stayed the night at Will’s. The rustic nature of the house, the small coziness of it made him feel like not shaving. Maybe even wearing flannel. 

Will returned from the bathroom, his face washed but unshaven. 

“What do you feel like?”

“What do you have?”

While Will rustled through the cabinets, Hannibal stood and stretched, naked. 

“Uh, I have bread. Some bacon. Um. Eggs. A bit of milk. Pasta. Cheese.”

Hannibal ran though the ingredients, thinking of what they could make as he put on his underwear. 

“Is it cheddar? Or that horrible orange stuff that passes as cheese?”

A pause.

“It’s American cheese.”

A sigh.

“Boil some water. I’ll make us some pasta carbonara.”

After using the bathroom, he went back to the front room that Will used as his bedroom and put his pants on, walking into the kitchen topless. Will had laid the ingredients on the counter and watched Hannibal inspect them out of the corner of his eye as he made them coffee. He picked up the packet of pasta, turned it over.

“I don’t recall seeing this brand before.”

“Yeah, it’s just the store brand. I don’t know, I don’t cook much pasta.”

Will handed him a cup of coffee. Instant. Hannibal sniffed it but drank it all the same. He had been with Will long enough to know that artisan coffee was not his style and staying at Will’s house meant a certain pastoral charm. 

Without leaping to the defence of his coffee making skills, Will placed his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and kissed his neck.

“Would you mind looking after lunch while I take the dogs for a quick run? I have the guilts about leaving them alone this morning while we…well….were busy?”

“Of course. I know where everything is. I’m sure I can pull something together.”

Will looked at the ingredients. Plastic. Processed. He drained the rest of his coffee.

“Do you…have you made your own pasta before?”

“Yes I have. I don’t do it often, but I have done so in the past.”

“Would you teach me? Could we do it together?”

Hannibal smiled, kissed Will on the cheek. 

“Of course. Tomorrow night? My kitchen?”

“It’s a date.”

Will kissed him back and then went to put on a pair of shorts and some runners. 

…

Will returned sweaty and happy. The dogs puffed and panted on the front porch, lapping water from their bowls and dribbling it all over the deck. They sprawled all over. 

Hannibal met Will with a glass of water.

“Stay out here, Will. I’ll bring lunch out.”

Hannibal brought the bowls of pasta out and handed one to Will.

“This smells amazing. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Will dug in, hungry. The dogs watched him eat, licking their lips and drooling. 

“Mmm. So good.”

Hannibal ate slower, enjoying the view across the field in front of Will’s house. It was a perfect day, warm with a slight breeze dancing across the grass and onto the porch. It was quiet, save for the snuffling of the dogs. If Hannibal listened closely, he could hear the river nearby. 

Will finished his lunch, running his finger across the leftover sauce in the bottom of the bowl and offering it to Buster who had planted himself at Will’s feet. 

“Do you have any patients this afternoon?”

Hannibal shook his head, reaching for Will’s glass to take a sip. 

“No. Though I have some writing to do and patient notes to update. What did you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“I have a couple of things to do around here. Some panels on the barn need fixing up. Might go down to the river later.”

A pause. Hannibal wanted to ask, itched to ask. It was comfortable though, the silence. 

“Do you think little Will is going to visit this weekend?”

Will scratched Buster behind the ear. He stayed quiet for so long that Hannibal wondered if he had imagined asking the question. Perhaps he said it in his head. 

But Will gave a small shrug and stretched, his t-shirt riding up, giving Hannibal a glimpse of his stomach. 

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You’ve seemed happier lately. Perhaps you don’t need him right now.”

Will had considered it. It’d be unrealistic to think he hadn’t. It was when he was alone, late at night before sleep captured him. When he thought about little Will disappearing, a sadness came over him. Not for just him, but for Hannibal too. 

“I still need you.”

“Kind of you to say.”

“It’s not about kindness. You know how I feel about you. And you know how little Will feel about his daddy.”

Hannibal stood, picked up Will’s plate and kissed him on the top of his head. 

“I know it’s not something you switch on and off. I was just curious.”

Will sighed. He stood up and moved to the step, sat down on it next to Winston and ran his hand through his fur. He could hear Hannibal inside, cleaning up. Not long after, Hannibal came out, dressed in his clothes from the day before. He sat next to Will and reached across him, petting Winston on the head. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? Will you be staying the night?”

“Sure. I have some stuff to do in the morning, but I’ll get the dogs sorted and then head over in the afternoon.”

Hannibal kissed him, ran a hand through his hair.

“Until tomorrow Will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will had missed Hannibal. Although they had been together for some time now, both as lovers, and little and caregiver, it still surprised Will to acknowledge that ache sometimes when he was away from Hannibal. 

He parked out front and used his key to let himself in. They didn’t technically live together, but for all intents and purposes, they shared living spaces. Will stayed at Hannibal’s when he was little, for the pure fact that he had more room to store little Will’s many things. But otherwise, they maintained some form of independence. 

Soft orchestral music flowed through from the kitchen. Hannibal was at the sink and had his back to Will and for a moment, Will just watched as the muscles in his back rippled under his white shirt. 

Hannibal lifted his head and smiled without turning around. 

“You’re finally wearing the cologne I gave you for your birthday.”

Will gave a small laugh and crossed the floor to greet him, tossing his keys on the counter. Hannibal nuzzled his neck, inhaling deeply. 

“I figured tonight was special enough.”

“It is. Your first pasta making experience. Are you looking forward to it?”

“Is it strange that I am slightly nervous?”

“Not strange. But there is no need for you to be nervous.”

Hannibal handed Will an apron and he tied it around his waist. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater while Hannibal poured out two glasses of rosé. They clinked glasses and sipped.

“Now, the first lesson in making pasta is that you must use the very best ingredients you can source or afford.”

Hannibal stood slightly behind Will at the counter and picked up a bag of flour with one hand, the other resting on Will’s hip.

“This is _doppio zero_ flour. Italian for ‘double zero’. It refers to the milling process and how finely ground the flour is. It is the best flour for making pasta. Now Will, could you measure out two cups onto the counter.”

Will measured out the flour, and as he did, with Hannibal’s hand on his hip and standing so close, he remembered the part of him, and of little Will, that liked taking instruction from Hannibal. 

When he was done, Hannibal took a sip of his wine and pulled over a small bowl containing eggs. 

“Fresh eggs. Free range of course, from happy chickens. Make a well in the centre of the flour, and crack the eggs into the well.”

Will did as he was told, Hannibal peering over his shoulder.

“No shell. Very good, Will.”

“See? I’m not entirely hopeless in the kitchen.”

Hannibal kissed him behind the ear.

“I never said you were. Now pick up the fork. Break up the eggs a little and begin to work the flour in from the outside.”

Will bit his lip as he concentrated on mixing the dough, bringing it together. He craned his neck to look at Hannibal. 

“How’m I doing?”

“Very well my boy.”

Will’s stopped stirring, Hannibal immediately realising his error, but not entirely sure he didn’t mean it.

“I’m sorry Will. Slip of the tongue.”

He went back to the pasta, ignoring the warmth that spread through him. He blamed it on the wine.

“It’s okay. Let’s keep going?”

“Alright. Once the egg has been absorbed, you can begin to use your hands. Bring the dough together on the board.”

Hannibal sprinkled a little more flour from the packet onto the counter top while Will began to knead. Hannibal stopped to adjust the sleeves of Will’s sweater. He turned the sticky dough over on the board. It reminded him of the Play-Doh he sometimes used when he was little. He chewed on his lip again.

“Turn it over and knead it, until the dough is elastic and smooth, but still slightly sticky.”

Hannibal could see Will shift, that he was struggling with his inner self. And while he never wanted to manipulate to his advantage and his alone, he thought a little nudge wouldn’t hurt.  He placed both hands on Will’s hips, squeezing gently.

“That’s it. You’re doing such a good job Will. You’re very good at this.”

“Am I, daddy?”

His eyes shone and his voice had taken on a younger tone. The expression on his face was one of desperation to please and be praised. He turned the dough over in his hands.

“You are. You’re such a clever boy.”

Will beamed and squirmed slightly under Hannibal’s touch.

“Daddy what do we do next?”

“Well, now we can put it through the pasta machine.”

Hannibal motioned towards the gleaming machine that had been clamped to the end of the bench. Will scratched his nose, a dusting of flour remaining. Hannibal laughed as he wiped it off this his thumb. 

“We divide the dough and flatten it out. I’m going to feed it through the top here. Can I entrust you to turn the handle?”

Will nodded and on Hannibal’s word, began to turn the handle. 

“Good boy. Not too fast and not too slow, we need to get an even sheet of pasta out of this. Very good.”

Will beamed as they worked together to feed the pasta through, ending up with beautifully thin sheets of silky pasta. 

When they were laid out on the bench, Will clapped his hands.

“What now daddy?”

Hannibal took another sip of wine. Will glanced at his glass and looked questioningly at Hannibal. 

“Would you like some juice darling?”

“Uh-huh.”

He smiled and tipped the wine down the sink, grabbing a sippy cup from the cupboard and filling it with juice. He handed it to Will who grabbed it with both hands and took a long drink. 

“Right. Now, we fill and cut the ravioli.”

Hannibal took a box of pumpkin and feta mixture he had made earlier from the fridge. He took two teaspoons and dolloped mounds of the creamy filling on the lower part of the sheet of pasta while Will watched on. 

“Can I help daddy?”

“I’ll tell you what, can you go over to the drawer over there, and on the left there should be a ravioli crimper. It has a wooden handle with a wheel attached.”

“Like a wheel on one of my trains daddy?”

“Almost. Only this wheel is crimped, meaning it has indentations on it.”

Will rifled through the drawer and emerged triumphant. 

“I found it!”

“Good boy. Now before we close up the pasta, we need to brush between the filling to seal it up. Can you also find me a pastry brush in the drawer?”

Will turned back to the drawer and a few seconds later found what he was looking for. 

“Will this be like painting daddy?”

Hannibal laughed as he filled a teacup with water.

“A little bit. Dip the brush in the water, just a bit. And brush in between where I have put the filling.”

Will’s face was etched in concentration as he painstakingly brushed water on the pasta. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth and Hannibal placed a reassuring hand on his back. 

When he was done, he looked up at Hannibal, expectant. Hannibal regarded him with mock, over-acted suspicion.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before, darling boy? Perhaps you have secretly worked as a pasta maker?”

Will giggled.

“No daddy! I’m too little to work as a pasta maker!”

“Of course! How silly of daddy to forget. Alright, now we seal up the pasta. Grab the ravioli wheel.”

Hannibal carefully folded the pasta sheet in half lengthways, pressing down between each parcel. He took the wheel from Will.

“Daddy will do the first one, then you can do the rest. Alright?”

Will nodded and watched intently as Hannibal rolled the wheel slowly, crimping and sealing the pillow of pasta. He handed the tool to Will who paused and brought his thumb up to his mouth, chewing on the tip.

“What’s wrong Will?”

“What if I mess it up? Or…or what if I make a mistake?”

Hannibal took Will’s hand away from his mouth and kissed the back of his knuckles.

“My dear boy. You won’t mess it up, I promise. Whatever you do, it will be perfect and delicious. I’ll be right here next to you, don’t worry.”

He kissed Will on the forehead, ran a hand through his curls and gave him a reassuring smile. Will smiled back and turned back towards the counter, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Pretend like the wheel is one of your trains you are playing with. Drive it steadily and slowly, and you’ll be fine.”

Will painstakingly cut the first piece, looking up at Hannibal when he finished. 

“Keep going darling. That is perfect.”

Will beamed and kept cutting the pasta while Hannibal went on to make the second batch. 

They worked together until they had a good pile of ravioli ready to be cooked. Hannibal filled a large pot with salty water and brought it to the boil, then prepared a pan for the burnt butter and sage sauce. 

“Will darling, can I ask you to set the table please? You know where the plates are – you can have a plate like daddy’s, or your own plate. And cutlery too.”

Will nodded as he set to his task, buoyed by the successful pasta making adventure. He set the table in the dining room then hurried back to the kitchen where Hannibal was dropping the pasta into the water.

“Will it be long daddy?”

“No, this will only take a few minutes. Then, once it’s cooked, I will toss it in some sauce and we can enjoy the fruits of our labour.”

Will watched on, clearly proud of the part he had contributed to their dinner.

“Alright, I think we are ready. Go and sit through in the dining room Will and I’ll bring this through.”

He obeyed and scurried through to his seat next to Hannibal’s at the head of the table. Will had put down a china plate and the gold-plated cutlery for Hannibal, and a plastic plate with his Winnie the Pooh cutlery for himself. 

Hannibal served up the steaming pasta, returning the pan to the kitchen and bringing back his wine and Will’s juice. With napkins in their laps, Hannibal took a moment to let the aroma of their dinner waft up and dance around his nose. Will watched him and did the same. 

“Smells yummy daddy.”

“It does indeed. You made this Will. And you did a marvellous job, I’m so proud of you.”

Will blushed, ducked his head and smiled.

“Thank you daddy.”

“Bon appetit.”

Hannibal tucked in. The pasta was delicious, smooth and silky on his tongue. The sweetness of the pumpkin and the saltiness of the feta mixed perfectly in the ravioli, with the simple butter and sage sauce adding another depth of flavour. 

Will was slower to eat. He played with his food a little, something not unnoticed by Hannibal. 

“Something wrong darling? Do you not like it?”

“No, it’s yummy daddy. Only, only I don’t want it to be over.”

Hannibal took a sip of wine. 

“Don’t want what to be over?”

“My dinner.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled Will’s chair closer to himself. He used his fork to pick a piece of ravioli off Will’s plate and blew on it to cool it a little, before holding it up to Will’s lips. 

“Come, dear boy. We’ll do this again. Maybe we can do it more often, cooking something together. Would you like that?”

Will took the ravioli off the fork and nodded, smiling. Some of the sauce had settled into the corner of Will’s mouth so Hannibal leaned forward and kissed it away. He paused, inches away from his lips. 

Hannibal, in a rare instance, couldn’t predict Will’s reaction. They had never been intimate while in these roles. Though Will could age up and kiss him, Hannibal recognised in Will’s eyes a vulnerability and tenderness, then a playfulness. 

A giggle and Will bit his lower lip again. 

“Daddy, that tickles!”

Hannibal laughed, spearing another piece of ravioli with his fork and feeding it to Will. 

“Then daddy will have to do better at feeding his baby boy.”

“Uh-huh!”

Hannibal kept alternating between eating himself and feeding Will. When they were finished, Will was full and drowsy. They took the dishes back through to the kitchen, Hannibal giving Will simple instructions to help in the clean up process. Will’s yawns did not go unnoticed as Hannibal did the majority of the tidying.

“Darling why don’t you go and change into your pyjamas. You know where they are in your room upstairs?”

Will yawned and stretched, nodding. Before he left the kitchen, he tapped Hannibal on the shoulder as he stood at the sink, finishing the last of the washing up. 

“Yes darling?”

Will leaned forward and pressed his body into Hannibal’s, arms snaking around his waist as his face nuzzled his neck. 

“Thank you daddy. I love you so much.”

Hannibal’s arms wrapped around Will’s shoulders, one hand caressing those curls again.

“You’re welcome darling boy. I love you too. So much.”

They stood there, holding each other for a while until Hannibal gently pushed Will back. 

“Now, upstairs with you Will. Then bedtime for sleepy boys.”

Almost on cue, Will rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Can I sleep with you daddy?”

“You may tonight. I’ll be up in a moment with some milk. Go on, darling, I’ll finish up down here.”

“’kay daddy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, and it's a bit shorter than the others. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone here and over ony tumblr for their kind supportive words of this fic! You guys are the best <3 Until next time :D

When Hannibal had finished cleaning up, he made up a warm bottle of milk and went upstairs but was surprised to find Will still fully dressed, sitting on their bed in the dark. 

“Will, is everything alright?”

The pyjamas sat beside him, a pair of little Will’s favourites, covered in puppy dogs.

“Do you ever think I’ll never need this?”

Hannibal sighed, placing the bottle on the nightstand behind the lamp and out of sight before sitting next to him. Will had aged up and seemed sadder for it. Hannibal reached over and switched on the lamp. Tear tracks were visible on Will’s cheeks.

“You’ll need it for as long as you need it, darling.”

“What if that’s forever? And what if I never need it again?”

“Then you need to be satisfied with either outcome. I will be.”

“Will you?”

Hannibal nodded.

“I’ll never push you Will. Not with this. You know this about me.”

“I do. But sometimes I think you prefer the little me to the big me.”

“I don’t prefer either version of you. I prefer both versions of you. Each is different but wonderful.”

Will squirmed at the praise, a trait shared by both big and little Will.

“As you are now, you are gifted, intelligent, handsome. Your empathy you may see as a curse, but it gives you great capacity to feel and connect, though the latter does not come easy to you. I understand that."

A tear escaped Will’s eye, but before he had the chance to wipe it away, Hannibal kissed his cheek, licked the saltiness off his lips. 

“Little Will is a different kind of joy. He is kind, loving and sensitive. He is wonderfully curious about everyone and everything. He is affectionate and so ready to please. What father wouldn’t want that in his child?”

Will was tired. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, forget about overthinking everything, as was his nature. His fingers stroked the soft flannel of the pyjamas that lay next to him. 

“You know I love you Hannibal. And I’m grateful for our relationship, and for all you do for little Will. But…I can’t know if I will do this forever. Switch between the two, that is.”

Hannibal shrugged.

“And you know I love you. And I will be happy with whatever eventuates. Would I mourn the loss of little Will? Of course. But it is the nature of things, and I will be prepared for that, if and when the day comes.”

“You wouldn’t get bored?”

“With you? Impossible, Will.”

Will yawned, gave a small laugh.

“You’re tired Will. Shall I fetch you some pyjamas?”

He looked at the ones on the bed and shook his head. 

“No. These’ll do.”

Hannibal’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. When Will did not move, Hannibal stood in front of him and began to undress him. He pulled the sweater off, but left Will’s undershirt on. 

“Lie back, darling, and I’ll help you with your pants.”

Will complied as Hannibal took off his shoes, undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants and slowly pulled them down his hips and then off. Hannibal threaded Will’s legs through the pyjama feet and brought them up, lifting Will’s backside slightly to get them on. 

He grabbed Will’s hands and helped him to sit up, guiding each hand gently through the arm holes of the pyjama top and slowly doing up each button. Will just yawned again. 

“Do you need to use the bathroom before bed?”

He shook his head. 

Hannibal retrieved his own pyjamas, a more adult combination of striped pants and a long-sleeved top. When he approached the bed, Will stood and went around to his side, climbing in at the same time Hannibal did. 

They lay there for a moment before Will shifted over.

“Hannibal?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you…would you feed me?”

Will’s eyes flicked over to where the bottle stood on the bedside table, hidden by the lamp. Hannibal was confused. It didn’t happen often. 

“But…you’re not little…are you?”

“No. I just want to know how it feels, when I’m not.”

“Alright.”

Hannibal leaned up, grabbed the bottle. It was still warm. He placed one arm around Will, and they shifted to get comfortable. Hannibal brought the bottle to Will’s lips. Little Will would have latched on immediately, closing his eyes and sighing, making happy noises as he drank. 

Will, apprehensively, eyes on Hannibal the entire time, took the nipple into his mouth. It was foreign, in this mindset, and he tried to relax as he bit down on the distantly comforting rubber. 

“Don’t use your teeth, Will.”

Will sighed, slightly frustrated. He was about to give up then and there when he felt Hannibal’s hand on the nape of his neck, stroking it. 

“Just relax, darling. Close your eyes. Let the feelings wash over you. Don’t think too much. Just let it happen.”

Will took a deep breath and inched forward, letting his mouth close around the nipple. He pressed down with his mouth and the warm, sweet milk began to flow. It took a few seconds to remember the rhythm, but soon enough, he began to relax and suckle, swallowing the liquid and finally relaxing. 

“Good boy. Such a good boy, Will.”

The rhythm and the warm milk in his stomach began to take its effect and Will could feel his older self slipping under. And as his arms tightened around his daddy, he reminded himself that as much as he needed little Will, so did Hannibal. 

So with that thought in mind, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, the last memory he had was Hannibal kissing his forehead and murmuring sweet assurances of love to them both. 


End file.
